


Rogue Two

by writetheniteaway



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fix It Fic, Fix-It, Post-Canon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writetheniteaway/pseuds/writetheniteaway
Summary: Cassian and Jyn survive Skariff. For better or worse, they're the only ones left alive, and now must find their place as the rebellion continues to grow. They need to learn about each other. They need to see if they can see this through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! This is a work in progress that will carry from the end of Rogue One through at least the end of A New Hope, possibly longer depending on where we wind up. Thanks for coming on this adventure with me! Comments always appreciated. Special thanks to my best friend and beta @writewithurheart

He should kiss her.

But that would mean he didn’t think he’d get another chance, and what was it she had said hours, eons ago, that they would keep taking chances until they were spent. He isn’t ready. Years of robotic pragmatism take over while his mind is free to focus on other things. In theory, it leaves him free to plan his next move, but he can’t make his mind focus on any of that just now. It’s a loss of control he finds terrifyingly unfamiliar. She stands close enough that he can hear her trying to catch her breath. His hand is still on her wrist; he’d needed the grip to get her off the bridge, to get her to _move_. She hasn’t pulled back from him, and that either means she’s too shocked to notice or doesn’t mind his hand still being there. If it’s shock, he keeps it there to keep her steady; were it for the other reason, he doesn’t mind it being there either. He dares not look at her, but then she glances at him, and neither of them has done this sort of thing and now of all times is not the moment to start. He must be in shock too, for seconds to move like decades, but she’s here and won’t come out of this without his help so he has to at least try and think.

He hears screaming and panic over the com: the Death Star. It’s here. Her face betrays fear for the briefest moment; he saves her her pride and glances away, his eyes surveying the space with renewed focus.

“We can take this down as far as it goes. The further we are from it and the more metal between us and the blast--”

“And leave the people we led here to die alone?” She doesn’t mean to accuse him, but it stings him nonetheless.

“There’s nothing we can do for them,” He insists. “If we go back to the beach it’s all over. This way at least there’s a chance.” He chooses the word with purpose, knowing it would give her pause.

Something snaps above them and for a moment they’re in free fall before the backup system kicks in, throwing them both hard against the floor. A warning sign flashes near her, briefly illuminating her face. “Energy source critical.”

They spare a glance to confirm the shared decision before moving to action. He ducks low to the control panel and she stretches high, snapping a bar from the roof of the cabin to pry the door open.

He disables the controls that lock the door, and stays low to pull the opposite direction of her efforts.

The doors part, and it’s another seamless transition to their next chance. He swallows a grimace when his ankle twinges, he won’t make it far, not on his own. But, as he cannot seem to remember, he’s not alone any longer. They’re still in sync, and he boosts her up to clamber out. She reaches back to pull him up, a strain on both of their fading energy, adrenaline can only take someone so far.

The corridor they enter is already strained by the commotion above, wires and debris threaten to fall, but the ground beneath them is still for the moment, so they press forward.

“What are we looking for?” Jyn demands.

“Another way down,” Cassian shouts above the chorus of failing machinery.

“Let me help you,” She insists suddenly, bearing the weight his ankle ought to. He should send her on alone; but she’s too good. She rescued children whose names she did not know, cried above corpses of those she did, he may not have known her long, but he knows her now. She would not leave him behind. She was better than he could ever be. For however long, he knew he was home.

The floor beneath them begins to splinter. They freeze, eyes scanning for any way to move before it collapsed beneath them. His eyes fall on a ladder, its rungs descending beneath falling tile.

“There,” He said with the smallest hint of triumph, leading here where they need to go. The corridor rocks again; a large ceiling panel crashes beside her. Jyn throws all of her weight forward, propelling him to the top of the ladder, leaving her on the wrong side of a rapidly widening crevice.

“Jyn!”  
“Go!”

“You won’t make the jump-”

“I’ll find something, just go-”

“Get across first-”

“Damn it Cassian go!” The floor pitches again. “Now _!_ ”

An idea, a mad one, formed.

“You have to use the shift to time you distance; wait until it gives way and rolls forward, then jump!”

The corridor rolls and he can’t see what comes next, falling through the ladder’s shaft, losing all sense of above or below.  


	2. Chapter 2

_If you focus on one thing at a time, you won’t live to see tomorrow._ Draven’s voice echoes in his mind, unpleasant in its familiar rapprochement. It was a skill that had been drilled into Cassian young, letting his mind manage multiple concerns: Assess physical damage quickly-long enough to know what parts of you need protecting but not long enough to allow yourself to focus on pain. Like right now: his ankle was worse, and the opposite shoulder didn’t quite feel connected to the rest of his body any longer.

Survey his surroundings; the worst of the blast has passed, he thinks. The floor is relatively stable beneath his feet, but with the weight of an Imperial Base caved in on itself, that won’t be a guarantee for long. Find a way out. Avoiding the worst of the blast had worked, but it had caused the new problem of them being buried inside a tower that had collapsed on itself. He had no sense of where the rubble had fallen, only that the longer time spent underneath the less chance there was of coming out of it.

He rubs the dust from his eyes as best he can and scans the space for Jyn. He finds her a few yards from where he’s landed. She’s pinned, although crushed may be the better word, between a wall and a beam, and he forces the absolute terror of seeing her trapped to occupy the same space in his mind as the searing pain, because she needs him to focus. There’s no time for anything else. With a fortifying breath, he begins the daunting task of clambering across bent steel and exposed wire to reach her.

For the short time he’s known her, her response to trauma has been shock, first Jedha, than Eadu, watching world after world shatter before her eyes. It surprised him, that someone raised by an extremist like Saw hadn’t had such a trait trained out of her. But there was something so pure about her, about the way Jyn could feel so deeply about something that it led her to feel absolutely nothing at all.

That shock will serve her for a few moments. He won’t be able to get them both out without her help, but when he kneels beside her he hates himself for trying to shake her out of it all the same. It’s the only thing protecting her from pain right now, and he’s forcing her to give it up.

“Jyn,” her eyes flash to him, “We’re gonna get out of here.” He firmly believes that. He has to because allowing the opportunity for any other outcome won’t help. “We need to get this off so you can move.” He moves slowly, wasting precious seconds, but can he call it waste if it keeps her from losing the shield of calm her mind has built? He places his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. “Jyn, look at me.” She complies, this time with the concerted effort to hear what he's saying. “I want to get this off of you,” he continues, wary of losing her focus. “Do you think you can help me?”

"Yeah,” she manages, attempting to push up against the weight of the beam. “On my count,” he says, seeking the best angle to grip. Settling on a spot, he looks at her again, “One, two, three.” They struggle for a moment, but the angle’s all wrong, and no amount of strength can change it. He’ll have to cut it into sections; he thinks briefly of the laser they'd left in the data vault, worried it would weigh them down.

He looks a Jyn again, the exertion tearing away at her calm;he tries to reach her before the panic sets in. “I'm going to find something to break this up with-” He realizes his mistake a moment too late, realizes why she's suddenly gripped his hand with unimaginable force, realizes he forgot what she'd told him;. “I'm not used to people sticking around when things go bad.” He'll wonder what else he could have said to her to make her believe him later, when they're safe. For now he has to settle for a promise he hopes he can keep.

“I'm going to find something to cut the beam with.” She's shaking now, and it's not helping her compressed body any as panic starts to set in. “Listen to me Jyn, I'm going to take one hundred steps, I won't go farther than that.” It isn't enough for her, but she won't dare to say so aloud. On an impulse, he kisses her forehead. “I'll be back, Jyn.” He doesn't know if it's surprise that steadies her or the gesture itself, but for a split second it almost seems like she believes him.

He makes it seventy-three steps, most of them approximated over debris. There's the sound of machinery, a sudden flood of heat: Droids, three of them, all Imperial. His heart falls to his stomach at the sight of them. They're Search and Rescue, drawn to the heat signature of the two trapped humans,cutting their way through the maze of destruction.

The going is slow, but certainly outpaces him. He could try and beat them back to Jyn, let them cut her loose before they have to fight their way free. There isn’t time, and all he can do to stay out of their path is to flatten himself beneath a smoldering wall panel.

If this were anyone else, any other moment, he’d be figuring out a way to kill Jyn before she’s caught. Himself, too, if necessary. It’s part of his training. But this is Jyn, and he can’t let that thought take root, can’t let his instincts take over, and damnit it all they need to survive. If she screams, he doesn’t hear it.

He lets them find her.

He breaks his promise.

One more person who left her behind.


End file.
